


Ginger tea

by ToxicPineapple



Category: Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: All just mentioned in a single paragraph, Background Celesgiri (Past), Background Naeleon (Past), Background Sakuraoi (Past), Character Study, Conversations, Developing Relationship, Hiro is still dumb and Byakuya is still mean but, Introspection, M/M, Melancholy, Post-Canon, Post-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Their trauma ages them, implied romantic feelings, you know how it be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:54:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28929846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToxicPineapple/pseuds/ToxicPineapple
Summary: There’s something about the way the early morning sunlight makes Byakuya’s face glow that gives Hiro pause; the former clairvoyant leans himself against the doorframe and folds his arms over his chest, taking in the look of the younger man, seated on the tatami mat. Back when they first met, it wasn’t rare for Byakuya’s face, even in times of rest like this, to be creased. Be it with irritation or with vague, unspoken displeasure, there are permanent frown lines under Byakuya’s eyes from the scowls he so frequently wears. And those are still common-- especially when something inconvenient or unexpected happens, or Byakuya is approached by someone who he deems beneath him-- but they’re lifted more easily now, and on occasion Hiro has even caught Byakuya smiling, really smiling; not the smirk he used to put on during class trials, but a lopsided, eye crinkly grin that makes him look several years younger.Not that Byakuya is particularly old.---Hiro wakes up early and enjoys some tea with Byakuya.
Relationships: Hagakure Yasuhiro/Togami Byakuya
Comments: 10
Kudos: 42





	Ginger tea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Xx_M0THM4N_xX](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xx_M0THM4N_xX/gifts).



> happy fucking birthday leon i'm sorry this is late and i'm also sorry for writing something where leon is dead i just, like. y'know. i've written you two naeleons already (slides togakure onto your plate)

When Hiro opens his eyes, he’s greeted with sunlight coming in through his drapes, and the sound of birds singing outside his window. It’s not a new sound, and the blue sky that Hiro sees after pulling himself out from under the covers and peering through the drapes isn’t a new sky, but it’s still enough to make his breath catch in his throat, as it has at the end of every winter since the tragedy. When he pulls open the window, the air that drifts through is still crisp with February chill, but spring is here, without a doubt, and that brings a grin to Hiro’s face.

A glance at the clock on his desk tells him that it’s a couple hours before the others are going to wake up, and he considers going out to make everyone breakfast, but it’s Aoi’s turn on the rotation, and while Hiro wouldn’t ordinarily mind taking over breakfast for one of his friends, he makes a point not to do Aoi any favours unless she  _ really  _ needs them (look, Aoi is fine, but a rivalry is a rivalry, y’know?) so Hiro decides just to head to the kitchen and make himself some tea.

The house is peaceful like this, in the hours before everyone has woken up, the sun just barely risen. Hiro’s slippers make light padding noises against the hardwood floor and the kitchen, as he enters it, already smells like ginger tea. That’s Byakuya’s favourite flavour-- which is to say that Kyoko, the other person in this house who regularly brews herself tea to drink, won’t touch it-- so Hiro guesses that he’s not the only one awake and peers around the doorway into the sitting room.

Indeed, Byakuya is seated on the tatami mat in front of the TV, his legs tucked under a cushion, a book open in front of him and a mug of ginger tea steaming on the coffee table. He has a kettle and a box of tea bags and a second mug sitting a little ways away from the cup. Though the book is open in front of him, it appears that it’s been lying at rest for a while, because the pages have fanned out in that way they do when you open a book to a page but don’t crease the spine. Byakuya’s hands are resting, curled, in his lap, and his head is turned away from the table, gaze faraway, fixed on some point out the window.

There’s something about the way the early morning sunlight makes Byakuya’s face glow that gives Hiro pause; the former clairvoyant leans himself against the doorframe and folds his arms over his chest, taking in the look of the younger man, seated on the tatami mat. Back when they first met, it wasn’t rare for Byakuya’s face, even in times of rest like this, to be creased. Be it with irritation or with vague, unspoken displeasure, there are permanent frown lines under Byakuya’s eyes from the scowls he so frequently wears. And those are still common-- especially when something inconvenient or unexpected happens, or Byakuya is approached by someone who he deems beneath him-- but they’re lifted more easily now, and on occasion Hiro has even caught Byakuya smiling, really smiling; not the smirk he used to put on during class trials, but a lopsided, eye crinkly grin that makes him look several years younger.

Not that Byakuya is particularly old. He’s twenty three, now, turning twenty four come May, which is young by any stretch of the definition, but the Tragedy and subsequently the war have oftentimes wiped any trace of youth from his face. It makes Hiro sad to see, even if he hasn’t really lived much more of a  _ life  _ than Byakuya has, going from school to school to avoid the Kuzuryuu Clan and then eventually locking himself up inside Hope’s Peak Academy with the rest of their classmates…

It affected all of them in different ways, Hiro thinks. Sometimes he’ll walk down the hall past Kyoko’s door, open just a fraction, and hear Makoto trying to rouse her from a nightmare, whispering that it’s over, Taeko isn’t suffering anymore, (and sometimes he hears Kyoko trying to do the same thing for him, when he dreams of bloody baseballs and chains around the neck, but if Makoto and Kyoko wanted Hiro listening in on their trauma they’d invite him in, so he usually just closes the door the rest of the way and handles the both of them with care the next morning), and Aoi still wishes for Sakura to hold her, Hiro knows, late at night when her bed is too large, and too cold.

It makes moments like this one, where Byakuya’s face is crease free, his blue eyes almost sparkling in the sunlight, taste even more strongly of syrup, and there’s a part of Hiro that just wants to stand here forever, watching Byakuya, drinking in the silence, the peace, the reassurance brought by the upcoming spring.

There’s an ache in Hiro’s chest, a yearning, one that couldn’t have developed when they first met (because Byakuya was too young, his face rounded, and well, Hiro was too distracted with fantasies, with crystal balls and money and Yakuza clans), a part of him that wishes that he could go over and sit across from Byakuya without killing the moment, that Byakuya would let his walls down enough, just enough, that Hiro could share this moment, not steal it. But the part of Hiro that wants Byakuya to enjoy the moment of piece is stronger, so he doesn’t mind watching, not for now.

…Well, he really  _ doesn’t  _ mind, in fact, he’s perfectly content just to stand here against the doorframe until someone else wakes up, and Aoi comes into the kitchen whining about how someone could’ve gotten a start on breakfast while she was asleep, but then Byakuya lifts his chin a little, just a little, and speaks.

“You look like an idiot just standing there.” There’s a familiar haughtiness in his voice, but no edge, no bite, as his eyes slide over to meet Hiro’s. “Were you just going to watch me all morning?”

Well, now that the jig is up (and despite a slight quirk of one of his brows, Byakuya doesn’t seem all that bothered, which Hiro is equal parts perplexed and pleased by) Hiro grins and pushes himself off the wall, bounding over and taking a seat across from Byakuya, planting himself on another one of the cushions. “Nah, Byakuya-chi!” he says, all bright and cheery, any traces of melancholy gone from his face and voice. “I was just trying to figure out the best way to come over without startlin’ ya! If I’d known you knew I was there, I would’ve come over faster!”

Byakuya lets out a small exhalation through his nose, which Hiro decides he’s going to call a laugh. “Right,” Byakuya says. The corner of his lip twitches, and now he looks back at the coffee table, reaching out for the box of tea bags, ripping open a package and delicately placing one of the bags of ginger into the spare mug before he lifts the kettle. “You like ginger, right? Don’t tell me Kirigiri has influenced your tastes.”

“After all these years and you can’t even call her Kyoko,” Hiro remarks, with a grin. Byakuya rolls his eyes, which Hiro takes as his cue to give a real answer. “Yeah, of course, man! I like all kindsa tea.” He pauses, and then adds, “Hey, I bet I could get a pretty good reading off of the ginger, if you wanna cut open one of these bags--”

“I’ll pass,” Byakuya cuts him off flatly. Despite how long he must have been sitting here, the water that he pours into Hiro’s cup is still steaming. “I’ve had more than enough of my share of your idiotic readings.”

Pouting, Hiro replies, “I would’ve given you a free one since it’s just you and me here right now, but okay,” he huffs.

Which is… a bit of a lie, to be truthful. They all share the money to own this house, all work the same job. Any payment that Byakuya could give him would probably just go to the same thing that Byakuya was already planning on spending it on. Hiro loves wasting his money, it’s his  _ passion,  _ but-- well, y’know. You gotta live to blow your cash, y’know. And besides, he likes Byakuya too much to try and scam him.

(That’s a weird thought, but they’ve known each other for eight years, so it’s fine, right?)

“Free or not,” Byakuya puts down the kettle and nudges Hiro’s mug forward. Hiro obligingly reaches out and takes it. Byakuya’s hand is cold when their fingers brush. “The lack of a price doesn’t make up for the lack of quality, unfortunately.”

“Awww, c’mon, man, I’m right a third of the time!” Hiro defends, but he’s grinning, and Byakuya scoffs as he turns his head away. Hiro shakes his own, just slightly, before blowing on his tea, moving the teabag around by the label slightly as he waits for it to steep. The smell of the ginger is soothing, and it reminds him of Byakuya, in a way. Strong and offensive to some, but… healing. It warms your chest, especially during the winter. “What had you so distracted back there, by the way?” Hiro asks. He takes a sip of his tea too soon, and it burns the roof of his mouth, but he swallows back his cringe and looks at Byakuya while he waits for a response.

“Nothing,” Byakuya says, closing his eyes. Hiro raises his eyebrows, then realises that Byakuya can’t see it, and thus relaxes his expression, but hums a little to communicate his incredulity. Byakuya scoffs. “I’m not deflecting. I wasn’t distracted by anything. I merely spaced off,” and there’s a hint of annoyance in his expression when he opens his eyes again, but it disappears a moment later. “I was thinking.”

“Yeah? About what?” Hiro takes another unwise sip of tea.

“About how meddling fortune tellers should mind their own business,” Byakuya says, his nose wrinkling.

“Man, c’mon!” Hiro huffs. “I’m just making conversation!”

The corner of Byakuya’s lip twitches, and Hiro feels his indignation melt away. “I’m aware,” he replies, before reaching for his own cup of tea. It must be cold, because when he drinks it, his expression sours momentarily, but then he sighs and puts the mug back down on its coaster. “Spring is coming, is all.”

“I was thinking about that too,” Hiro grins. “Are you excited?”

“A Togami shouldn’t get excited about such trivial things,” Byakuya sniffs.

“That’s not a no,” Hiro points out.

And Byakuya hesitates, for a moment, a short moment, but a moment long enough that Hiro thinks about how much he’s changed since they met, how the stuck up, insufferable rich kid has… remained exactly that, really, stuck up and insufferable, but also…

Hiro doesn’t think  _ age  _ defines a person. Byakuya is a product of his experiences, not his years, and nobody deserves to have gone through what they’ve all gone through. But he’s grown up, in a way that’s hard to articulate, exactly, hard even to see except in moments like this, where Byakuya is looking him directly in the eye, a hint of hesitation in his face.

Then he says, “Maybe a little,” before scoffing. “I’m not looking forward to the pollen, however. Listening to Naegi sneezing all season is going to be grating.”

Even with the deflection, Hiro finds himself grinning again. Looks like they’ve got that in common, at least.

He takes another long sip of his ginger tea before he replies, just watching Byakuya watch him.

They’re both excited for springtime.

**Author's Note:**

> mmmmmmmmmm. togami and hagakure kinnies go brrr


End file.
